


Goodbye, My Almost

by ReliantStraylight (LoneCard)



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Break Up, Gen, Leaving Home, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 18:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneCard/pseuds/ReliantStraylight
Summary: "There isn't," Mark replied. He stepped back, reflexive, already turning towards the door. "This is just who you are."Damien had still tried, still begged and pleaded. He'd never known what it was like to care about someone so deeply. He had no idea what to do to win here, to keep Mark on his side. So he'd swallowed his pride and asked.Damien never did get what he wanted. Not really.A snippet into Damien's month between getting kicked out and actually leaving.





	Goodbye, My Almost

"What can I do to make this right?" Damien asked, his outrage starting to give way to panic. "There has to be something I can do."

He couldn't lose Mark. He didn't even know why. <strike>Except he did</strike>. His eyes flicked down to Mark's lips, just for a second. Even in anger, he glowed. The setting sun shone in his hair. In spite of himself, Damien tried to step in closer, reaching out to some part of him, any part, just to feel something. Mark had to understand, if he would just listen-

"There isn't," Mark replied. He stepped back, reflexive, already turning towards the door. "This is just who you are."

Damien had still tried, still begged and pleaded. He'd never known what it was like to care about someone so deeply. He had no idea what to do to win here, to keep Mark on his side. So he'd swallowed his pride and asked.

"Tell me how it's supposed to work. I don't know how to do this."

Damien never did get what he wanted. Not really.

* * *

The sun had long since set, the moonlight scattered by overcast. Silence rang, settling heavy through the hollow loft. He lay on his couch, staring at the ceiling and seeing nothing at all. Distantly, he felt tears streaming down his temples and into his tangled curls. Eventually, The city faded away and in the late hours between night and morning, Damien had dozed off. 

Blearily, he opened his eyes, rubbing his face, and he saw something on his coffee table. A manila folder. It wasn’t his, was it? Had Mark left it there? He must've.

Damien flipped through the folder. If Mark had been the one to leave it there, he hadn't mentioned it; he had to have slipped it there, next to the book he had been reading before, when Damien wasn't looking. With every page he read through, a weight of dread grew in the pit of his stomach.

It had everything he needed, as far as he could tell. A Social Security card and number, A birth certificate with his actual birthday, credit score reports, paperwork for a passport and ID, some cash. Actually quite a lot of cash. Probably enough for him to live off of while he moved and settled into a new life. There were also printouts of health insurance registration, phone numbers for temp agencies, a directory of AM branches all over the country and a few real estate agents for neighborhoods a few towns over. 

It all screamed loud and clear, “get out and go away”.

At the very back of that folder was a list, just a piece of paper, slightly crumpled, with a handwritten list.

  * <strike>How to be an adul </strike><strike> What to do before you go</strike> To Do:
  * Go to the DMV, get ID and Passport.
  * Get a bank account.
  * Get a driver's license.
  * Get a job.

Damien had never gotten a chance to see Mark's handwriting before now. It was messier than he expected, the I's dotted with dashes. Not that it mattered anymore. If Mark didn't want to be with him ...well, he knew how the rest went. Everyone leaves. Damien should have known, had learned this lesson, over and over again. He was beyond salvation, and not even Mark’s kindness and caring had been enough.

At least Mark had had the decency to say to his face that he was being abandoned, to tell him directly what so many people thought while they ran for the hills. Damien ran the conversation over and over again in his mind, relishing in the agony of it all.

He remembered his parents for a split second. A kid waiting far too long in an empty house for a return that never came. Then, a scared preteen wandering around until he found an empty apartment building, accumulating food and furniture and everything he'd needed to survive. He'd done everything to get rid of that lonely preteen once it was all said and done.

He'd done this before, he reminded himself. Now he just had to do it again, just without his power. Without his one core piece of identity. He couldn’t. But really, it wasn’t up to him. 

He grabbed his laptop and looked up the nearest DMV. If he was going to start all over again from the very bottom, if he was really going to have to struggle to survive, he might as well get started.

* * *

"No, you'll need to print your name in this box, not sign."

"I’m not...Yeah, alright."

Damien still wasn't used to listening to authority. To having to take instructions, to having to obey. It wasn’t too bad, once he swallowed his pride. Once that part of himself had been sawed away by the new mundanity that was his life. He signed where he had to, printed where he had to.

“Okay, sir, you can expect your expedited passport to arrive in the next few days?”

“How...do you know how many days exactly?”

“Five, at most.”

“Right. Uh, thanks.”

“You have a good day, sir.”

“Hmm.”

Damien looked around the crowded DMV as he left, seeing seas of the masses. Bored business people, parents with fussy children, a few people all on their own. Now Damien was one of them. One of many of the dull, normal, typical masses. Almost.  His gaze landed on a man in crisp sneakers and a basketball jersey. He had bags under his eyes, but he was smiling as he read through the Hobbit.

Damien almost said something to him, but thought better of it. He may not be above them anymore, but he didn’t... he couldn't be one of them. Not yet.

* * *

Damien looked around at his old apartment one last time. The sun was setting, casting the whole place in a warm glow. At the time, he'd just picked the biggest loft in the ritziest neighborhood in the city. He changed apartments all the time when he was younger, hopping around the nicest places he could get into. He was less likely to get caught if he never stayed in one place for too long. As he'd gotten older, he started staying put for longer streches. Moving was a hassle, and it was...good, to have a point of stability.

He'd been in this apartment a few years now; A part of him would miss it. He hasn't bothered to try and sell off the place, just left the deed he'd made the landlord sign on the coffee table next to his keys. He was sure she'd be happy to have it back, and even happier to be rid of him.

He walked down the stairs for the last time, his footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. Somewhere, music was playing, jazz. Somewhere else, someone was laughing.

He had bought some beat up old car off of craigslist. The old Ford Focus wasn't much, but it was enough to get him and his stuff to his new studio apartment two towns over. It was enough to get him away from everything he'd known.

All he packed was a suitcase and a backpack; some clothes, all his books, an old violin. He felt around for his wallet in his back pocket. ID, Debit and Credit Card, Driver's license. It had taken longer than he'd expected to get everything sorted, and far more social interaction with authority than he'd ever had in his adult life, but he had everything he needed to get the hell out of Dodge.

Damien settled into the driver's seat and pulled out his wallet. He hadn't actually seen what a modern ID looked like before he got his in the mail. It was oddly thin, with his fingerprint and scrawled signature on the back. 

The front read “Damien Gorham”. A final act of kindness towards him, letting him keep the one good reminder of his teenage years.

Damien drove off, away from Mark and towards whatever came next.

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered what happened during the month between Mark telling him to leave and Damien actually moving out. I've been sitting on this for ages, and I figured I should get it out of my system. Enjoy this idiot dumpster fire child slowly learning to be an adult!


End file.
